Fever
by Irongurl
Summary: Living with Sherlock is hard. But John didn't think he'd ever develop an attraction towards his flatmate. The series of events that lead to Johnlock. May be a smut... I haven't decided yet. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**HI EVERYONE! Okay so please don't hate me for being away for so long but it was christmas and then almost everyone in my family had the flu and then I watched all seven seasons of Doctor Who in two weeks and then I watched all of Sherlock of three days and then I spent two weeks on tumblr and I am really bad at posting things on line because procrastination is almost my religion so yea.**

**This is the prelude to my first Johnlock fic. The other chapters are longer and they're coming soon but I still have to type them up.**

**So as usual I plead, review. And also the stuff in italics is John thinking. Just in case that wasn't clear.**

**So now...** _**Enjoy.**_

* * *

John's routine had always been the same. He would wake up around eight, slip on some sweatpants and a jumper, and shuffle his way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea while he worked himself into wakefulness. He missed that routine. John had yet to see a single second of it since he had become a resident of 221 Baker Street.

~oOo~

"Gah!" John gasped, abruptly stopping in the middle of the entryway.

"Good morning, John." Sherlock responded, eyes not wavering from the grotesque foot he was busy prying at. John crinkled his nose, the room stunk of dead flesh.

Standing in the archway, mouth gaping wide and eyes that most likely looked like a Halloween prop for a few moments before he could speak again. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" John demanded as soon as he'd gathered his wits.

"Experiment."

_What a wonderful way to start my first morning here._

"Right..." The doctor said skeptically, walking over to the stove to put the kettle on. "Is this going to be a regular thing?" He hoped to god this wouldn't be his new routine wake up call.

"Most likely."

_Absolutely __wonderful__._

"Okay.." He grabbed a mug from the cupboard, carefully preparing his morning tea. Sherlock slid his phone out of his pocket and typed out a message with quick tapping noises.

"We're going out to dinner tonight." He informed John nonchalantly, returning the phone to his pocket.

John practically choked on his tea, sputtering and coughing to get the words out, "Excuse me?" He said holding back another cough and placing his mug on the table.

"My sources inform me that one of Moriarty's associates is having a dinner tonight at Ramford's. We'll be eating there as well." He replied.

"Oh." It took John a moment before he realized, "Wait isn't Ramford's ridiculously expensive?" His eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Yes."

Sherlock returned to his vulgar experiment not paying attention to much else and John collapsed onto the couch sighing and muttering under his breath, "Great."

* * *

**Oh and I just want to thank my beta kalyamay, she is a ridiculously talented writer and I owe her for putting up with my inconsistency.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guise! So I hope you liked chapter one, I've had chapters 2-6 written for a while now, but they're not typed so I'm going to type them up one by one and publish them. My computer has been broken for a very long time but I finally replaced the hard drive and it works like new now! I also finished watching Supernatural so now I have lots of free time to update my fanfictions.**

**Again, John's thoughts are in Italics.**

**So here you go my loves, ****_Enjoy._**

* * *

John got the chicken fresco, Sherlock got nothing (as per usual) and it had been mellow for the past twenty minutes.

They had gotten to the restaurant around eight and were seated quickly.

"Champagne for the couple?" The ridiculously french waiter asked.

"We're not a-"

"No thank you." Sherlock interrupted John's protest. John glared at Sherlock then back at the bald waiter with the cheesy mustache. He rolled his eyes and opened the menu they were handed.

"John." Sherlock whispered as the old man walked away.

"What?" John retorted, admittedly slightly irritated.

"That's him." Sherlock nodded his head towards the people sitting a few feet behind the army doctor. John nonchalantly glanced behind himself.

The man they were watching was a mass drug dealer supposedly connected to four murders. He was an average, if not handsome, looking man in a plain grey suit. His black hair against his pale skin made his dark brown eyes stand out and look very cold. He was eating with a female who's back was to John, she was dressed in a very tight maroon dress with dark hair as well. John couldn't get a look at her face but he assumed she was attractive. John turned back to Sherlock and nodded.

~oOo~

"So you're really not going to eat anything?" John asked, looking up from his plate.

"Can't, busy." Sherlock said, not turning away from staring at the man. John shook his head and went back to his food.

"John look." Sherlock whispered. John turned around. Sure enough, the man stood up to take a phone call. Sherlock got up and followed with John close behind. They walked quietly behind the man down the dark corridor which led to the lavatory. They passed the restroom and walked to the end of the hall which held a door that led to the alley behind the restaurant. He was talking too quiet to understand and then suddenly stopped. John panicked but Sherlock noticed a small alcove hidden in the shadows of the hallway, he pushed John and himself into it, hushing the doctor.

John went rigid. It was a very small alcove, just enough room to hide both of their bodies in the darkness, but they had to press the selves up against each other to fit. John shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down, but he could feel every part of his body that pressed up against the warmth of Sherlock. His head started spinning and he bit down on his lip and held his breath. Knee to knee, hip to hip... chest to chest.

_Oh god. _John thought as he tilted his back to lean against the wall. He breathed slowly, trying again (and failing) to control his breath). _Calm yourself, it's just Sherlock, he's your mate, stop feeling like this! _He mentally commanded. Thankfully Sherlock spoke up then.

"He's gone." The detective said, slipping out.

_Finally. _"Oh, good. Fantastic." John breathed, once again following Sherlock. They paid the bill then left the restaurant seeing as the pair were gone when they got back to the table.

~oOo~

In the cab back to the flat, John couldn't keep still.

_What the bloody hell happened back there? _John glanced over at his friend He sat completely still, gazing out the window at the dark city they drove through. John realized he was staring and looked forward again. _Do I fancy him? _John panicked. _No, stop it John, you're not gay. It was just adrenaline from before. _He reasoned. _Yea, that's what happened._


End file.
